


Advent Ficlets

by misura



Category: Forest Kingdom Series - Simon R. Green
Genre: Advent Challenge, Community: lands_of_magic, F/M, Ficlet Collection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 16:40:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6712792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six ficlets written for the Advent Challenge over at lands_of_magic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Advent Ficlets

.01 _pre-BMR, Julia, the Dragon_

Julia scowled at the place where she had last seen the dragon, before he had turned on what he called his 'camouflage', to show her that he could.

 _'Invisibility' is more like it. Probably some sort of spell._ Possibly, she should have refrained from being quite so vehement in expressing her doubts of his claim that he had, in fact, collected most of the butterflies in his collection himself. _What did I imagine: that he_ bought _them? That he traded for them with other collectors at the annual butterfly collectors' convention?_

She sniffed, making sure to keep her expression annoyed. It would hardly do for the dragon to see her smile. He was, after all, holding her captive here, against her will. She was a kidnapped princess, waiting for a brave prince to come and rescue her, slaying the evil beast that had torn her from her family's loving embrace. 

_Right. Well, anyone with enough brawn to take down a dragon is probably also a total idiot. He'd have to be, to come all the way up here to begin with, only to save someone he's never even met. I could probably tell him that I'm from the Moon Kingdom and still have him believe me._

"I can still see you perfectly fine, you know," she lied.

"Is that so?" asked the dragon, from quite some distance behind her. "That's very impressive, Julia. I suppose I'm lucky that butterflies aren't as incredibly observant as you are."

_Ugh. Whoever's coming for me had better hurry._

 

.02 _pre-BMR, the Night Witch_

The orchestra struck up another slow tune, every note perfect. They did not know what the Night Witch would do them if they missed a note, or merely played the wrong song at the wrong moment, but they knew that it would be more terrible than anything they could possibly imagine.

Only two days ago, a guest had drank a little bit more than he could handle. He'd stumbled, hurrying forwards to beg the Night Witch for a dance, or even just a look, so that he could tell himself that she knew he existed, at least.

Now, he served as a human lantern, to guide new visitors to the gate. Some people claimed that he was still alive, that if you paid close attention, you could see his empty eye sockets follow you as you walked by, that if the direction of the wind was just right, you could hear him moan.

Most people knew such small things weren't important, though. Why should they care what happened to some stranger? He'd only been one of the crowd, another competitor for the Night Witch's attention. As far as they were concerned, he had only gotten what he deserved. _They_ would never make such a foolish mistake. _They_ would succeed where he had failed, by being too eager.

Besides, there were always new faces. New competitors. The stream of visitors to the Night Witch's hall of stone and ice was never-ending, all of them Lords and Dukes and Princes in their own countries; all of them perfectly happy to throw themselves at her feet if only she would smile at them.

She never did, of course. That would only spoil the game, after all.

However, if anyone presented her with a particularly valuable gift, or paid her a particularly handsome compliment, one that she hadn't already heard a hundred times before, from a hundred different men, she might agree to a dance. Provided the orchestra was playing the right song at the time, naturally.

 

.03 _pre-BMR, Eleanor, the High Warlock_

"Stay with me," said Eleanor, her hand reaching for his. The High Warlock grasped it, disturbed at how weak her grip had become, how uneven her breathing.

He had agreed to keep her company this afternoon, to stay with her while King John dealt with some important matters of state that couldn't wait. He hadn't asked what they were, and King John had not offered to tell him. It did not matter, anyway. Nothing mattered anymore.

In the end, what good was all of his magic if he could not even save the life of the woman he loved? If all he could do was sit by her side, helplessly watching as her life slipped away before his very eyes?

"It doesn't hurt, you know," said Eleanor. He felt her fingers move a little and realized that she was trying to squeeze his hand, to reassure and comfort him. "I'm not in any pain. I'm just so very tired."

The High Warlock realized that he did not have the courage to tell her that she was lying. People who coughed up blood did not feel 'just tired'. "I'm sorry," he said. "I should have done more."

Eleanor smiled at him. "No. You did what you could. Don't blame yourself for this. I forbid it."

He bowed his head so that she would not see his tears. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"I want to sleep," Eleanor whispered. "To finally rest."

The High Warlock remained silent. There was nothing he trusted himself to say.

"You can help me with that much, can't you?" Eleanor asked. Her tone was pleading, almost begging. It cut at the High Warlock's resolve like a knife. He pulled his hand loose almost violently, unwilling to keep even that much contact between them. What he wanted more than anything was to be gone from this room, to find a place where he could get a drink. To pretend this had never happened.

"You'll feel better after a drink of water," he said, rising. "Perhaps even some soup. I'll ask the cooks to make some. Don't worry, I'll be back soon, and we can ... talk."

He felt like a coward all the way from the palace to the ale house, until he had poured enough liquor down his throat to not feel anything anymore.

 

.04 _pre-BMR, Julia, the Dragon_

"Let's see," said the dragon, peering at the list. "Clothes, soap, food - obviously. Next - ahem."

"Old rags will do." Julia stared at the dragon defiantly. "But if you think that it's in any way fun or _easy_ to get blood out of any kind of clothes, you've clearly never tried to do it yourself."

"Well," said the dragon. "I really can't argue with that. Fine, I'll see what I can do. Next: a sword? Really?"

"It's to stay in shape. I need to practice."

The dragon peered at her suspiciously. "You need to practice," it repeated slowly. "For what?"

Julia gestured vaguely. "For when someone rescues me and I get out of here, obviously. What, you don't think I plan on trying to take you on _myself_ , do you? I'm not an idiot."

"Ah." The dragon coughed a little. "No. Of course not. The very first time I met, I told myself: now here's a smart, sensible young woman, who would never even consider doing anything even remotely ill-advised or silly. Piss off her family by making a big fuss about some arranged marriage? Assuredly not! Take things so far that her own father condemns her to - ahem."

"To death, dragon," said Julia coldly. "My own father condemned me to death by dragon. What a great guy, huh? Putting the good of the kingdom before his own daughter's life like that."

"I'm sure he loves you very much," said the dragon, a little awkwardly. "In his own way."

"I'm sure he doesn't give a damn about me myself," said Julia.

The dragon looked like it considered arguing, but then, it had spent several months with Julia already. It had learned better by now. "Well. I'd best be off, see what I can find. If all goes well, it shouldn't take me more than a couple of days."

"If any princes show up to rescue me, I'll tell them to wait, shall I?"

 

.05 _pre-BMR, the Night Witch, Eduard_

"Don't you think that I am beautiful?" said the Night Witch, sipping a century-old wine from a faraway country. The glass she was drinking from was made of the finest crystal.

The men who had laid these gifts at her feet might still be in her hall somewhere, looking on jealously as she talked to someone else - or they might have left, or even died, a long time ago. The Night Witch never paid attention to things that bored her, and people who had no gifts to offer her were usually very boring. Occasionally, she thought of an interesting way to kill one of them, so that they might die knowing that they had managed to amuse her, at least for a short while.

Dying in such a way was an honor men had killed one another for.

And so, obviously, she would not kill this newcomer, who had come bearing cold steel rather than priceless gifts, in that manner. Not yet, anyway. He had done nothing to deserve that much of her attention. She would not waste her magic on someone incapable of properly appreciating it.

"You are very beautiful," said Prince Eduard. He sounded sincere, honest, and yet the Night Witch could not help but feel that he did not truly mean what he had said.

"The most beautiful woman you have ever seen?" she asked. Men had compared her to the sun, the moon and all the stars; to gems and flowers. Poets had sung of her beauty in songs that had ended only because she had grown weary of the sound of their voices and taken their tongues.

"Yes," said Prince Eduard. "But I know the price of that beauty, and so no matter how great your beauty is, it will not keep me from killing you if you try to harm even a single one of my people ever again."

"Dance with me," said the Night Witch, extending her hand. She smiled as he took it without even hesitating for a single moment, knowing that in the end, he, too, would become hers.

 

.06 _post-BMR, Rupert, Julia, Breeze_

"Look," said Rupert diplomatically. "I'm sure that they will come around eventually. Just give them some time to get to know you a little better. So what if they're a bit shy? There's nothing wrong with being shy - in fact, it's probably just as well that they don't immediately trust any complete stranger who shows up in their territory. I can imagine there's plenty of people who come here looking for unicorns with far less noble intentions than us."

Breeze sniffed. "Rank cowards, the lot of them, if you ask me."

"Maybe they still smell the dragon," Julia speculated, looking around to see if she might catch even the smallest glimpse of the herd of unicorns. The dragon had assured them that it had spotted them nearby, a mere three hours ago. Surely - _surely_ they would still be around somewhere.

"You weren't always such a hero yourself, you know," said Rupert to Breeze. "Only when it counted. Just like me. I guess that's how courage works, sometimes: you don't know that you have it until you really, really need it."

Breeze sighed and half-heartedly nibbled at some grass. "Ugh. You know, they probably _like_ this stuff? I mean, how would they know what real food even tastes like? Maybe coming here was a mistake. Maybe I should just accept that I don't belong anywhere anymore."

"Whatever you choose, you will always have a place where you belong," said Rupert firmly. "That's with us. Now, let's find a place to have lunch and figure out what to do next."


End file.
